


hold my place

by the_problem_with_stardust



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Semi-established relationship, bucky is the disaster one in this, mentioned sam/steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29454804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_problem_with_stardust/pseuds/the_problem_with_stardust
Summary: Clint returns from a month-long mission to find someone has been fixing up his apartment.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 6
Kudos: 100
Collections: Winterhawk Valentine's Day 2020 Blind Date Exchange





	hold my place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chalenmimi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chalenmimi/gifts).



> For Chalenmimi, who asked for disaster/cute encounter, comfy clothes, and height difference. I really tried to hit all 3! Happy Valentine’s Day!!!

Clint pushed the door open to his apartment and paused. The squeak he’d been meaning to fix for the past few years was... gone? He moved the door back and forth a few more times before deciding he was too tired to deal with that particular mystery.

The door slipped closed behind him, almost silent, and Clint turned to stare at it again. Clearly someone had been in his apartment. He flipped on the overhead lights and blinked in confusion. When he’d left, only the single bulb above the doorway wasn’t blown. Like the door, it was something he meant to get around to fixing. But as long as one light still worked he figured it was fine.

“What the futz?” he said, looking around at the brightly lit kitchen and sitting area.

The cabinet door that was missing had been replaced and Clint was sure that the oven would actually work if he turned it on. Even the refrigerator seemed to be humming properly, no longer making its ominous death-rattle.

“Right,” he said to the empty apartment. None of his alarms had gone off, so he wasn’t too worried about whoever was breaking in and tackling his to-do list.

Clint set down his duffle bag and pulled off his boots. He’d left the bulky bow case back at headquarters because it was awkward as hell to take on the bus and increased the odds of getting recognized as Hawkeye exponentially. He regretted that decision as soon as he heard the tap of feet on the fire escape.

Grabbing a knife from the block and an arrow from the mess on the kitchen table – at least his mystery handy person hadn’t tried to tidy – he approached the window.

And immediately stepped back when he recognized the familiar figure of James Buchanan Barnes.

“Maybe give me a heads-up next time,” Clint grumbled, as Barnes slipped through the window.

Barnes startled. “You’re back.” He hastily slammed the window closed behind him, cutting off the biting winter chill.

“Yeah,” Clint said, not lowering his weapons. Catching a fellow agent off guard was not something that happened. Catching _the Winter Soldier_ off guard was something that never happened. “What’s the last thing I said to you before I left.”

“That if you were late again, Hill was going to make sure you ended up in deep cover somewhere they had never heard of coffee.”

Clint shrugged. “She’s threatened me with that before,” he said, sticking the knife back in the knife block and moving to sift through the mess of arrows and fletching on the table. He should have brought the bow with him. Sure, he had backups, but it wasn’t the same. “What’s wrong?”

“Huh?” Barnes looked up from where he was tugging off a sodden boot.

“What’s after you?” Clint gestured at where Barnes was dripping on his carpet. There weren’t any active threats that he knew about, but he’d been gone for a month after all. “Aliens, the mob, foreign agents, domestic agents, whatever threw you into the sewer and sent you crawling back here.”

“There’s no threat,” Barnes said, moving onto the other boot.

“Seriously?” Clint pointed at him with an arrow. “You didn’t even know I was in the room when you came through that window.”

Barnes pulled off his jacket next, letting it fall to the floor with a soggy sounding _thwap_. “I was… distracted.”

“So I don’t have to worry about an army of Doom bots?” Clint set the arrow back with its brethren.

“I wouldn’t bring anything back here,” Barnes said, strangely earnest.

Clint held up his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you would.” He ran a hand over his face and grimaced at the rasp of stubble on his jaw. “It was a long mission.”

“I was at the park,” Barnes said, grumbling the next bit so quietly, Clint wasn’t sure he heard correctly.

“Hold up. A goose?” Clint asked, incredulous. The most feared assassin in the world, taken out by a goose?

Barnes shuffled his feet, looking like a grumpy, bedraggled cat. “Don’t tell Steve. Or Sam.”

“I must’ve fallen asleep on the quinjet,” Clint said. “This is all some elaborate dream.”

Barnes’ t-shirt hit him in the face with a wet slap.

“Okay. Maybe not a dream.” Clint flung the shirt back. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re _here_.”

Barnes made a face. “I wanted to give Steve and Sam some space. They’re still in the honeymoon phase.”

“So you told them you were crashing with me?”

“Steve thinks you’re a good influence,” Barnes said, pushing his dripping hair out of his eyes.

Clint sighed. You recruit one super spy to the avengers and suddenly the whole world thinks you’re some sort of assassin whisperer.

“I’ll get you some dry clothes,” he said, already writing off the possibility of an early night. “Get in the shower before you turn into the frozen soldier.”

Not his best wordplay, but _fuck_ he was tired.

Barnes went without a word, already familiar with the layout of the apartment. He probably could have gotten his own clothes too, but Clint grabbed the duffle he’d abandoned by the door and hauled it to his bedroom.

Oddly enough, the bedroom was undisturbed. The hoodie Clint had pulled out of his bag at the last minute was still haphazardly draped over the pillows. He tossed some laundry into the basket in the corner, pausing when he came across a pair of Barnes’ pants under the bed. They’d probably been there since the night Clint left. It definitely looked like Barnes hadn’t set foot in the room since then.

Clint sighed again and threw the pants into the basket. This was probably something they were going to have to talk about.

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch,” Barnes said from the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Why?” Clint asked, although he had a sneaking suspicion he knew the answer. “The couch isn’t _that_ comfortable.”

Barnes shrugged, drawing Clint’s eye to his shoulders. “We hadn’t talked about it.”

It took Clint a moment to drag his mind out of the gutter and when he did, he winced.

“It’s fine,” Barnes said, “I can sleep out there tonight.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “No one is sleeping on the couch.” He handed over the clean t-shirt and sweatpants he’d set aside for Barnes, then went back to clearing the floor of potential tripping hazards.

“Just… when you said, ‘make yourself at home,’ you probably didn’t mean it quite so literally.”

“I don’t mind,” Clint said. “Plus, you fixed the front door.”

“Mhmm. I bet you’re calling me _Barnes_ in your head.”

Clint winced again. “I still think sleeping with co-workers is a stupid idea.”

“What about dating your co-workers?”

“Even worse,” Clint said. “Feelings make everything messy.”

Barnes snorted inelegantly. “Are you telling me that feelings aren’t already making this messy?”

Which was… fair. Clint turned and looked at Barnes – at Bucky – and felt his breath catch a little. He was already in too deep.

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “I swear to god I’m a normal sized human being, you’re just tall.”

“That’s not what I was thinking,” Clint said, which was true. “Although you do look good in my clothes.”

Laughing, Bucky pulled at the fabric pooling around his feet. Clint’s pants were definitely too long on him. “Then what were you thinking?”

“I missed you,” Clint said, simply.

Bucky looked up sharply. “So you’ve thought about it? Us?”

“More than I should have,” Clint admitted. Natasha had gotten rather sick of his pining.

“Okay,” Bucky said, already slipping beneath the sheets on his side of the bed.

Clint frowned. “Just like that?”

“Yup.” Bucky pulled the sheets up over himself and patted the space beside him. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“I can’t believe you spent a month sleeping on that couch,” Clint murmured, when he was under the covers too.

Bucky cracked one eye open. “Wasn’t sleeping very well,” he admitted. “A goose got the drop on me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Clint said, once he’d stopped laughing.

Bucky hummed, nearly asleep. “You love me anyway.”

And yeah. Clint really did.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: @theproblemwithstardust


End file.
